


Kings

by OnyxReed



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Chess, Cold War, Fic Exchange, Historical Hetalia, M/M, Rusame Cold War Exchange 2014, unreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3990040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxReed/pseuds/OnyxReed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred and Ivan survey their domains in a game of chess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Rusame Cold War Exchange back in 2014 for tumblr user http://aself-indulgentfangirl.tumblr.com/
> 
> http://marxistperidot.tumblr.com/post/97414693726/kings-fic-for-rusame-cold-war-exchange

Two legions of men stood with their weapons drawn.They were no more than organized lines of ordinary people given a uniform that proved their patriotism. The most expendable were thrown to the front while the most essential elements were granted their protection. And, of course, the most essential of elements were the ones wearing the crown. Their queens were certainly important, but the pivotal aspect of warfare rested in guarding the king. Golden blond hair stuck haphazardly out of the headpiece as blue eyes surveyed his dark defenders. On the other side, the shining white pawns protected their leader, and piercing velvet eyes stared right back. That was it. He had to win.

“Your move.”

Ivan’s voice, as smooth as ever, jolted Alfred out of the world that he had created.

The men shrank into pieces on the board, weapons no longer drawn but implied in their very being. The real weapons on both sides were the minds of their controllers; whatever grey matter rested in between blue and violet had to sharpen up quite a bit if it wanted to gain victory.

“Right,” Alfred replied, looking at the board frankly. Ivan had moved the central pawn up two spaces. A typical first move. He scoffed, reaching out for his own central pawn. “Is that all you could think of?”

Two spaces claimed, and both pawns were locked in place as they stood in front of each other.

“Alfred, you are scolding my lack of creativity; yet, your sole move is to block my pawn?” He let out a hearty, childish sort of chuckle. Typical Ivan fare at the end of the day. “You really are quite ‘monkey see, monkey do,’ as they say, are you not?”

Alfred shrugged coyly. “Hey, it works. Besides, if your strategy doesn’t work, then it’ll hurt you, too, and I have what it takes to take advantage of that failure.”

Ivan scoffed, glancing back down to the game. Alfred took that as a personal victory.

The white knight moved two spaces forward and one to the right, exposing Ivan’s left flank. Alfred took the opportunity to meet him, as he always did, inside and outside of their national duties.

For Alfred, military tactics were about as easy and fun as his job could ever get. There was something oddly satisfying about the ability to move men as easily as it was to move a piece in a tabletop game. As he moved his own knight to match Ivan’s, he glanced down at his watch. Thirteen-fourty-nine. The Turkish should certainly be receiving the gift to them by now.

Glancing up, he saw a silverish brow lofted upwards just slightly, framing skeptical, violet eyes. Alfred’s finger still rested on his knight. "Are you done yet?“ asked the Soviet, patience dwindling.

He lifted his finger. "Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking.” Like he even needed to apologize to someone as deplorable as Ivan.

Ivan’s smile made the American crawl. “Oh, so you do have to put a bit of effort into playing me, do you not? You know that I am not fooled by your carefree demeanor when you are around me, Alfred.”

The coy distortion of Ivan’s grin formed on Alfred’s face in the form of a simper. He let out a loud breath. “Right.”

As he released the breath, Ivan had already made his move. A white bishop had crossed downwards to meet the opening created by Alfred and to capture a black knight.

Alfred narrowed his eyes. There had to be something that he could do to recover. And, there it was. This was more than a small opening. With his pawn at the ready, Alfred struck, a single diagonal move between the black pawn’s conquest. A white bishop was knocked down to its side, and Alfred scooped it up in one fell swoop.

Both nations remained stoic in their single expression chosen for the day, handpicked from thousands of other visages that both had expertly crafted: that of superiority. They had both faced tragedy on several occasions when it came to military. Their scars ran deep. The loss of a few pawns - Even if some pieces were higher in rank than others and more strategic, at the end of the day, they were all just pawns. - was nothing in comparison.

Their moves became more and more aggressive, pawns lining up on either side of both colors like a prison line-up. After every blow he was dealt, Ivan recovered quickly. Alfred, deciding to match his adversary, did exactly the same. "Interesting strategy you have there, Fedya,“ Ivan teased, glancing down at his wrist for a moment in between moves before moving his rook up a single space.

"Well, as they say,” he said, moving his queen diagonally three spaces to capture Ivan’s. Ivan looked up from his wrist to see the move, and, for just a moment, one could see the twitching of his lip.

Alfred looked down at his watch. Thirteen-fifty-six. Had Feliciano gotten the missiles yet? Games aside, he had a democracy - several democracies - to protect.

By the time that he had looked up, his own queen was gone, captured by a white pawn. Ivan had recovered. It was just like that Russian to be so slippery.

Their moves kept growing bolder as the gaps in time between each move, caused both by thinking and by their constant glances downwards towards their watches, became longer. Alfred began to deviate from simply matching Ivan, trying to corner him. The most youthful voice rang out with a “check” more times than Ivan did; however, whenever Ivan would say the same, it was with more conviction, and it took Alfred much more maneuvering to recover.

That recovery, of course, would be a sacrifice. Again, it was just a pawn. It was expendable so as long as it wasn’t the king or his pride.

Blue eyes stared into violet, and violet looked back. They looked down at the two kings and two pawns, a black and a white of each, that remained on the board. Where had the time gone?

Their necks both craned to the right where two telephones, one white and one black, began to ring. "Excuse me,“ they muttered in unison as they not-so-calmly leaped out of their chairs, rushed over to the phones, and answered.

Both men held the phones to their ears, and their respective leaders spoke in their respective tongues.

Alfred F. Jones. United States of America. You should be made aware that today, our satellites have picked up on what is certainly a stockpile of Soviet-owned nuclear missiles stored in Cuba. These are within firing range of key cities, including Washington, D.C. Your move?

Ivan Braginsky. Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. You should be made aware that today, our men have picked up on what are certainly stockpiles of American-owned nuclear missiles stored in Turkey and Italy. These are within firing range of key cities, including Moscow. Your move?

Two clattering sounds rung out through the room as pale and tan hands slammed their phones back against the receivers. The two nations turned towards each other with calm actions but aggravated faces. A vein appeared in the corner of Alfred’s face as he clenched his fists by his side. On the other hand, Ivan’s rage was more tempered. He took on a new air about himself, facial expression shifting very sparsely. The change was just enough to clue Alfred in.

They heard a "poof” sort of noise from the chessboard, and both kings were not only gone, but reduced to rubble. Two small piles of dust, a white and a black, blew away at the next wind. All that remained were two pawns.

Neither Russian nor American eyes diverted away from the other pair. They knew what had happened. They had felt it. It was fitting for both of them; after all, they really had no “kings and queens” among them. They controlled pawns, and nothing more. Armies, missiles, and politicians were nothing more than glorified pawns among the rest of the plebeians.

Alfred broke the silence after a few moments.

“Well, I suppose you found my protection for Sadiq and the Vargases,” he said with a shrug, losing the coyness about him for an uncharacteristic monotone.

“…and you found my welcome present for the Cubans,” Ivan replied in the same manner.

Another silence persisted for a minute or so, only to be broken by Ivan’s voice.

“We are not as different as we make ourselves out to be.”

Alfred rose a brow. “Why do you say that?”

“Think about it:” he insisted. “We respond with force every time. What little thinking that we do put into our policies is put towards predicting the other and using preemptive strikes.”

Alfred huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest and raising a honey-blond brow in arrogance. “Stop comparing yourself to me. You’re trying to take the wise-guy approach even at a time like this, huh, you damn red?” However, with all the time that Ivan had spent, willingly or otherwise, looking at Alfred and dealing with his emotional craftsmanship, he knew that his aloofness was only skin-deep. 

The red chuckled. “You are so predictable, Alfred.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Ivan replied, “that you are not being sincere. I know your quirks when I see them, Alfred. They make you more entertaining when they are not as predictable as that little display you just put on.”

Alfred blinked like his head had been spun around. “What are you trying to say?”

“You agree with me. You just don’t want to concede any point to me whatsoever.”

Alfred put on a look of incredulity. “Bullshit. Don’t pretend like you can read me like a book.”

“But I can.”

“You’re reading wrong, then, you dumbass! Sorry that I’m not written in your shithole of a language, but you might have to start reading in between the lines.”

Unlike Alfred, Ivan remained completely calm, curiously so. “I already have.”

“No you haven’t.”

“Yes I have.”

“I’m in the position to bomb the Hell out of your backwater nation and remove your threat from the world permanently, and you’re still pulling stunts like this?”

“Да.”

Since when had they stepped so close to each other?

“Why?”

Alfred didn’t exactly remember feeling Ivan’s hand on his shoulder, nor did he remember returning the favor.

“Because I can do the same to you.”

Two pawns of opposite colors stood in front of each other. If one stepped forward to claim the other’s territory, he would win the game. He didn’t need a stupid king to win. He was his own king. There was only one problem with that plan: Neither knew whose turn it was, and black and white asserted their own. The dissonance of their arguments clashed in their ears and distorted their thoughts to the point of uselessness.

Two pairs of pupils dilated. Ivan’s assertion of similarity didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the truth. Just like darkness and light, the king could not exist without an adversary to chase. Similarly, the pawns could not be without the stronger. The only questions came down to semantics.

Which was darker? A black king or the king that lacks color??

Which was the adversary? The villain, or one who would go to every extent to stop him?

Who was stronger?

When they left that room, both would tell the tale of their glorious victory. When Alfred shared it with Kennedy and with the rest of his Western allies, it was a tale of triumph over the iron will of the Russian. However, when he would recount it to himself, it was a tale of triumph over the iron will of himself and the realization of just how entwined their existences were. Their existences depended on each other.

“I’m still winning,” Alfred muttered, besides himself, as he worked in his office. “I figured it out first.”

He could practically hear the cold negation of his adversary.


End file.
